


Better Things

by ToukoTai



Series: Skateboards and Spray Paint [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Grief/Mourning, Street punk AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-20
Updated: 2015-09-20
Packaged: 2018-04-22 14:07:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4838054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToukoTai/pseuds/ToukoTai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim hits family tragedy face first. Steph understands him so much better then Bruce ever could.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better Things

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place after City Lights but before Underclass Heroes  
> Ending Lyrics and title from Better Things by Bouncing Souls

Steph has met Tim’s parents exactly zero times. Which is fine by her, because the number of times he has met her parents is also zero. And though she has told Tim everything about her parents and he’s told her about his, she’s rather glad that Tim has not met them. (and rather glad that she hasn’t met Tim’s parents either.) Another thing they share and understand between them are absent parents. Though her’s are absent in different ways from Tim’s. The result is the same.

 _We are all we have in the world_. Tim has her and she has Tim and that’s all they’ll ever need. That’s why she’s nervous. Tim’s parents had sprung a surprise vacation with them on him. And of course he should go. There was no reason for him not to.

The first time Steph breaks into Wayne Manor, it’s the night Tim returns from his parents’ vacation. Returns one parent less and one parent in a coma.

Of course the Batman had intervened or Tim and both of his parents would be coming home in boxes. So yes, Steph is thankful for Batman’s intervention. She’s not thankful for his continued involvement. Since he’s decided to ‘host’ Tim at Wayne Manor. A place Steph doesn’t feel comfortable going to. It’s not in the city proper, not surrounded by the hustle and bustle of the streets, the sound of cars on the freeway is a distant hum. It’s an old building, placed on the hill at the very edge of the city. Next to Tim’s house actually, if by next to, you meant an hour long hike through the woods. Steph hadn’t much liked Tim’s house either, the many times she’s been there, too empty and quiet. She makes the trek out anyway. Tim had better appreciate this. (She knows he will.)

Steph knows Tim, knows him like no one else. How even though he’s scarily independent and a textbook case of rich people child neglect, Tim loves his parents. More as distant figures then actual people. But he loves them all the same. She knows how this will affect him and what he needs is her. Not the isolation provided by a well meaning, but not very good at dealing with lost loved ones, Bruce Wayne.

So she skirts around the security cameras like catwoman taught her and opens a window on the bottom floor, and then gets horribly terribly lost in a house far too big for any one person.

Until the butler finds her.

“Miss Brown. We’ve been expecting you. Please. Follow me.” She doesn’t ask how or why, Tim and her have had enough run in’s with Nightwing that word would have been passed back to the Boss. They’ve always turned tail and run when they saw or heard him coming. At first it was a defense, and then like everything else it became a game. Who could spot him first? Who could run the fastest? Or the quietest?

The butler merely turns around and walks back down the hallway, Steph follows him, what else is she going to do? He leads her to the main foyer and then up the grand staircase. Steph pretends she doesn’t feel the weight of the portrait eyes on her. The butler turns down a hall and unlike the rest of the manor, unlike the wing Steph had gotten lost in, this one has a distinctly lived in quality. It’s the fifth door down the line, a rather worn looking door, the Butler opens it for her and then steps aside. Steph spares him a quick ‘thank you’ as she walks into the room. And holy shit, they put him in Dick Grayson’s old room, if the circus posters are anything to go by.

There’s a lamp on the side table casting a warm amber glow over the room, not glaringly overly bright, it makes the room seem inviting. Steph walks over to the bed, her sneakers making no sound in the carpet. Tim is curled up in the center of the bed under the comforters and sheets. She snorts, typical, and throws herself onto the bed, bouncing next to him. He squawks and she jabs him with her elbow.

“You’re making too much noise.” Tim’s head poked out from under the blanket.

“Steph?” His voice is small and unsure and Steph pretends not to notice. Because that isn’t what Tim needs right now, or wants. She pretends it’s just like when he got sick and had to stay in and she broke into his house to stay in with him. There’s the quiet click of the door closing that they both ignore.

“Yeah, it’s me. Move over, you’re hogging all the room.” Completely untrue. But Tim smiles, it’s a small brittle smile, and it’s the greatest thing she’s seen in a while.

“Get your shoes off the bed and we’ll talk.” Steph huffs at him and then squirms until she can kick her shoes off her feet.

“Happy now?” Her fingers poke at his shoulders until he rolls toward her.

“Ecstatic.” He looks tired and worn and sad. But he’s still Tim and she’s still Steph, so she throws an arm around him and yanks him closer and generously doesn’t say anything when his hand accidentally grabs her boob as he tries to clutch at her waist.

“Go to sleep.” Is what she says instead.

“Make me.” Is his reply. And then much, much later and quieter: “I miss them.” Steph tapped her fingers up his spine. And that’s all they discuss for the night.

In the early, early morning, with the grey light from a sun not even risen. They discuss it more. Tim is a shut trap at first, but Steph knows what to poke at, what to prod, what to say or not say, and pretty soon it’s all coming out of Tim’s mouth in a frantic flood of whispered words. She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t try to tell him everything will be alright, or that his mother is in a better place or that his father will wake up soon. She just runs her hands along his back, twists her fingers in his shirt, curls close until her nose bumps his and they fall back asleep.

 

Bruce comes to them that night.

They’ve spent the morning quietly sitting in what must be the library, reading. Because that was what Tim needed, some quiet time to get himself in order. They spent the afternoon loudly, running through the house, practicing flips and balance tricks on the banisters. Dashing through the grounds, because that was also what Tim needed, exercise and energy and time to distract himself.

At night, when it’s dark, when the call of the city is strong, Bruce appears out of the shadows and into the brightly lit kitchen. He seems ridiculous, sitting there at the counter with Tim and Steph. Eating dinner. This man is Batman after all, the man who’s very name strikes fear in the hearts of the toughest Gotham criminals. And he’s chasing a couple peas around his plate. This is incredibly surreal to Steph.

He’s a haunted man, Steph can see, and Tim would see, if he cared to. But Tim has his own ghost to deal with now. Steph can tell what’s going to happen even before the last bite is finished.

And she’s right.

When the food is done, and the plates cleared away, Bruce offers Robin to them. He offers it to Tim. He doesn’t offer it to her, at first, but they’d known that. Tim looks like a young Bruce Wayne would, Tim looks like a young Dick Grayson. (Tim looks like Jason Todd) Tim lost his parents. Tim is a perfect mirror and Steph is anything but.

Steph very carefully does not say anything. They’d been over this, Tim and her. But they’d been over this when they both had parents. If Tim wants to go, if he wants to be Robin, Steph will not stand in his way.

Tim doesn’t want to be Robin. He shakes his head. He turns it down. Bruce looks at her and before he can even start to ask, she shakes her head as well. Robin is for the broken and the lost and the alone. Robin is for those seeking a home. She is neither and Tim is neither. Robin is not for them, they have each other. Whatever hurts they have, they will fix them on their own, whatever cracks there are, they will fill them together. They are not lost, they are not alone.

She hooks her fingers around the loops of Tim’s cargo shorts’ pockets.

Whatever happens, whatever comes next.

Tim’s fingers tighten their grip on her sleeve.

They face it down together.

As Tim and Steph.

 _I know you got a lot of good things happening up ahead_  
_The past is gone, it’s all been said_  
_So here’s to what the future brings_  
_I hope tomorrow you’ll find better things_


End file.
